While You Are Sleeping
by KAirismatic
Summary: It's a rare and fleeting chance that Chucky has the opportunity to have Andy in this position. CAndy. Rated for slight language.


It was a late Saturday morning.

About 1:15 in the afternoon, to be more precise.

And I could go on about how the weather was fair, or how the people in the streets were busy as ever, barely brushing against each other in pedestrian traffic. I could describe to you the way the last summer heat made curling waves of smoke perspire from the sidewalks and asphalt roads. I could tell you about the sounds of horns honking and mothers calling to their children to stay at their sides, or the little bells of shop doors and the greetings of the employees inside. I could begin to dispel all the trivialities of back to school shopping, with lists marked by pens or pencils, and the shopping carts that were slowly filled with every necessity for a young American student. I_ could_ give you quite descriptive imagery of how the trees lined up along the road looked, with their leaves just beginning to curl into the season of fall, or how the pumpkins were just starting to come in, unloaded from large trucks by their tired drivers. I could even start an entirely new story just on the crisp smell of the city that was beginning to freshen the air from the summer humidity

But, instead, I suppose I should elucidate to you a more wonderful illustration.

Dearest Andy Barclay had worked long and hard just the night before- and very much into the morning- before he'd gotten remotely close to any sleep. On any other sort of Saturday, he would be up and about long before this hour, shuffling about the house in nothing but his undergarments- something that I say would be a _scandal_, were they not just far enough from the cities buzz that no one was at risk of seeing him in such an unclothed state. Perhaps he would have played some music, by turning the dial on the kitchen radio just _so _so that the music would barely drift through the small room, and perchance out the window, if he chose to open it. He would have started the coffee pot before settling in to start on breakfast for two, humming along to whichever tunes he recognized or caught on to whilst frying the bacon on an iron skillet.

It would have either been the smell of the bacon cooking or the sound of it sizzling over the heat that would have awoken number two in the small and humble household, who would emerge from the cozy nest of the bed with the sorest of frowns on his face, a trademark to his outstandingly bitter personality. He would have trailed into the kitchen to find his Andy nearly done with the morning fare, rubbing his face and unsuccessfully masking his contentment at the mere notion that they were both home, he and his boy, and neither had a thing to do but to spend the day in each other's company.

But this particular Saturday, he awoke to find Andy still in a peaceful doze, eyelashes fluttering only _just _every second or so, breath still soft and even. His body glowed with a certain warmth only found in sleep.

He was still in his work clothes, and he hadn't even gotten under the covers. The doll rolled his eyes and supposed to himself that he probably hadn't brushed his teeth, either.

"You're a fucking _dork_, Andy," he murmured, but as calloused as his words would sound to anyone else, those who knew him better would find the slightest tinge of hopeless affection hidden in his tone. He spoke softly enough so that it didn't wake the other, who was curled up on his side, hands folded beneath one of the under-pillows on their bed. Like everything else he did, Andy always managed to look so perfectly photogenic, even when his conscious state was in hibernation. His clothes were crumpled, his shoes were still on, and his hair was an absolute wreck, and yet he still held the countenance of an angel, lips only slightly apart to let in the oxygen slowly, gently.

The sheets rustled ever so carefully as the doll- even more carefully- propped himself onto his elbow to watch him, silently, as he tried to take in every detail of a moment he rarely ever had. Andy Barclay sleeping in later than he.

It wasn't just the knowledge that for once, it was _he_ who had bested Andy in his many small competitions of sorts that made him so incredibly pleased. Looking down at the unaware person besides him, Charles Lee Ray saw a side of the man he didn't have often chances to get a peek into- this vulnerable, trusting side. Andy Barclay, of all people, willingly choosing to sleep here next to him, without any sort of cares, softly sighing away peacefully as _he_ watched.

Andy Barclay was captivating.

Chucky shrunk back a bit, not quite ready to so quickly slide into such a thought so early. His default glower tightened for a moment as he continued to watch the man sleep, helplessly mesmerized by the stillness of his slumber. It was the energy in his very fiber of _being _that drew the doll to him from the start, but this very moment, the very notion that all that energy was at rest and at peace beside him was undoubtedly causing a surge of gratification to pulse through him.

His heart should most _definitely _not be beating so quickly so early.

Andy shifted suddenly, and Chucky jumped within himself when he felt the man's cheek brush against his forearm. This close- they were _this close _- and still Andy slept away, unaware, unprepared. Harmless. He felt a strange rush between his ears, and his eyes widened at the realization that _he _could do just about anything to Andy right _now_, and there would not be a thing the man could do about it. A display of trust from his boy- _his boy_. The sheer _bliss _of that!

He was growing quite the scruff along his jaw; Chucky entertained the idea that he looked rather handsome with it, and before he even had the chance to think about it twice, had run his fingers into the short hair, stroking the curve from the man's chin to his warm cheek.

He tried to groan, but his emotions ran ahead of him, and so he choked softly instead- and disgustingly so.

Andy, however, did not stir, except to leave the smallest sign of approval with a faint smile tugging the corners of his lips, the crease of his dimples just starting to show, and the doll knew it was all over for his pride now. So long as Andy never did know, it wouldn't hurt a bit to indulge himself in something he would never dare to humiliate himself with otherwise.

And so he dipped his hand beneath Andy's jaw again, brushing his small fingers up to his cheekbone, stopping to caress just where his cheek curved into his earlobe in slow, languid motions. His skin was a bit softer than Chucky had expected; but then again, Andy wasn't exactly involved in the most physically rigorous of careers. He cupped his fingers around the man's ear and delicately began to pay his full attention to dote on how it was so pliable within his handling. The sound that he received in response was one to relish.

He rubbed down and up along the jawline again, nails softly raking Andy's facial hair, pausing to run the edge of his thumb across the partially chapped bottom lip. He could feel the ghostly puff of life against his hand, and it wasn't cold in their bedroom one bit, but he shivered suddenly. He let his thumb remain for a minute or two, absent-mindedly continuing his affections about the man's mouth, before bringing his hand up again behind Andy's ear, only this time, to plunge his fingers into the thick hair just above the nape of his neck.

Andy's head lolled down against the pillow in acceptance.

Chucky had never quite been one for such pathetic endearments, but he couldn't help but find himself caught up in the way Andy's skin would prickle beneath his touch, small hairs straightening out against his docile attentions. He pressed his fingers in between the man's shoulder blades, finding tense and tightened muscles straining to be relaxed, to be soothed. A soft groan from Andy cautioned him to rub slower; he didn't want to _wake _Andy.

Not yet, at any rate. He needed this to last just a little while longer.

He carried about with a repeated circular massage up along the man's shoulders, feeling where everything ridged, where it meant nothing and where it was that Andy seemed to enjoy his touch more. The more inside the curve of his neck the doll's fingers were, the more pleased Andy appeared to be, breathless sighs of appreciation escaping him in small moans and whimpers.

He sat up now, fully entangled in this newfound occupation, and carefully brought up the young man's head to cradle in his lap, whilst now entangling his fingers back up into the thick brown hair, stroking just enough to barely scratch his scalp. Another soft hum from Andy had him buzzing uncontrollably, and he could feel himself becoming dizzy from excitement.

How many times had Andy left him in such a state as this, eyes closed and left to melt away under his gentle touch?

He continued to pet him like this- fingers in an up and down, left to right, crossways sort of caress. He would catch some tangles and lovingly brush them out, eyes still focused on Andy's face and his constant change of emotional bliss. He let his hand leave the still tangled mop of hair only to stop and stroke his brow, smoothing out the start of creases from worries and stresses along his temple. He could feel Andy's pulse underneath his fingertips- still steady, still in rhythm- as he followed the curve along his forehead down the bridge of his nose, and when Andy mumbled lowly and wrinkled his nose he became elated.

He could do anything in the world to Andy, and _this_ was the one thing he wanted the most. To gentle _his _boy through his sleep with _his _hands. He granted this right to himself, and strange though it may seem, felt as though he were the most powerful being in this very moment.

It was maddening. He would want to stop, oh- but Andy was so charmingly _handsome_, buckling into his touch just now!

He brought the both of his hands into the work of it now, just barely rubbing his knuckles about the man's cheeks again, smiling softly when he reached the stubble once more. It elicited another quiet hum of contentment from Andy, and his scowl completely softened when the man tipped his head back on his lap, neck exposed, as if begging for attention. Stroking him lightly under his chin, Chucky thought to himself that Andy humorously represented the actions of an affectionate pup or kitten, presenting himself like this. He wondered if it would be the same, if Andy were awake.

He ran his hands along the expanse of Andy's neck before cushioning his head into his hands once more as he returned to grazing his fingers through his hair. But this time, he curled over to press kisses against his cheek, again and again, whispering only the most intimate of phrases between each tender peck. Things that he'd tried to say but could never bring himself to; things he would never say if there were anyone to hear. He whispered it into the man's skin, breathed it into his ear, and his fingers twirled through the remaining tangles, tracing patterns that made Andy undoubtedly his and only his.

The way Andy trembled and sighed into consciousness then was something he never wanted to forget.

Any other Saturday, Andy would have awoken with the sun peeking through the too-thin curtains, his body warmed from the bed and his sleep. He would have begun his normal routine with tenderly kissing the forehead of a still-sleeping member before detaching himself from his grip. Any normal circumstantial Saturday, he would have already been just down the hall and to the left, turning over pancakes and singing softly to morning melodies.

But this particular Saturday, he awoke feeling strangely ecstatic, and as he slowly blinked his eyes away from sleep, he was aroused to the sensation of being cradled in the most amiable of ways. The belief that his mother had somehow found her way into their home crossed his mind, but then he heard a fairly libidinous phrase spoken near him and he started, fully awake.

He felt a considerable amount of emotions sweeping through him then, but the most dominant was purest stupefaction, and he could just scarcely whisper out his doll's name incredulously.

The amount of power and invincibility Chucky had felt just before so quickly melted away from him, and if he could have jumped away further in such a short amount of time, he would have. He held his hands up as if he were trying to deject the man from the foolish thought that _he _was lavishing any sort of affection on him. His scowl had returned, and his eyes snapped quickly to a defensive state, sharp and piercing against Andy's hazy, sleepy pair.

"It's not what you fucking _think_, Andy," he spewed out poisonously, an angry blush spread across his cheeks, and he panted between his words as if he had been involved in such a strenuous activity, chest rising and falling heavily. His hands were still in a place of surrender, but they were gradually curling into small fists and lowering to his sides.

Andy flushed himself in quite an alluring manner then, and Chucky groaned inwardly as he stuffed every temptation to take him into his arms again. The urge only worsened when the young man pulled him into a sudden amorous embrace, his face pressed against the doll's erratically pounding heart.

"I don't mind a bit," he spoke hoarsely, voice muffled by Chucky's clothing, and the doll could feel that Andy's pulse was just as uncontrolled as his, beating any which way it desired. There was a desperate undertone in Andy's voice, and Chucky cast aside his arrogance for just a moment more as his boy nestled his head on his lap again and continued to murmur, "Not _one_ bit."

**AN: **It's been quite a while since I've written anything about these two! Actually it's been a while since I've written anything in general, but school is just starting again for me and I'm getting back into that literary mood. I hope you all appreciate it- I was up until five in the morning working this out! As always, feel free to critique or comment 3


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